Quite The Looker
by LightbulbSoup
Summary: Everybody's favourite International Policeman finds himself without a case and decides to visit some old friends. Specifically those who served with him in the Pokéwar. Expect to see the 'Lightning American' Lt. Surge as well as other famous faces. Non-canon.


I haven't written fan fiction in years so I might be a bit rusty! Please review or just leave a comment, it really helps.

And if you have any questions or suggestions regarding Looker's old comrades or how I handle the Pokéwar, please do share them!

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Something odd rolled with the wind that day, a chill that crept up Looker's back and seemed to whisper in his ear: _danger_. But other than the cold there was nothing at all dangerous about the grassy fields in which he found himself. All that separated him from the open sky was the dark swathe of green that was Kanto's bounty and above him he could see formations of Pidgeotto wheeling from cloud to cloud. A twig snapped ahead of him and the detective froze, eyes wary and scanning his environment. A veteran's instincts. He sighed, dusting himself down and checking his Pokétch for the time. He would have to hurry if he wanted to reach the coast before dark. Turning his collar up against the wind, he continued on his way.

It had been almost thirty years since the war and few recalled it, let alone spoke of it. It was an ugly time and the fact that Looker was old enough to remember it was just as ugly in his eyes. He was greying awfully. Not that the war was over; no, he had been fighting it most of his life. Red-suited soldiers fought and ranted of beauty in Kalos just as Team Galactic had done in Sinnoh not two years ago. They were relics of wartime, these dark visionaries. Stories of death and destruction had found their ears and they wanted to change the state of things. It was almost admirable, really, but they had to be stopped.

The sky had begun to darken and empty of Pokémon, only the hoots of lone Noctowl accompanying the rise of the moon. Taking a moment's rest against the trunk of a tree, Looker decided he would sleeping under the stars tonight. After some rummaging in his long coat he retrieved a rather faded Pokéball and a torch. Flipping it in his hand, he switched it on and proceeded to examine the surrounding foliage. An incredible fortune in twigs but he would have traded them all for a tent or a couple of good, solid branches. Unfortunately he could find no such thing. An effortless toss of his Pokéball bathed the trees in light for a moment, causing them to appear pale and stripped, and left a dozy-looking Croagunk in its wake. It rumbled at the detective in a grumpy manner, cheeks vibrating.

"Yes, yes. I know and I'm sorry," Looker breathed as he bent down to pick up some twigs. "I thought I could cover more ground if I left you in your Pokéball." Croagunk scoffed and crossed his arms, before his odd features creased into a grin. Without another croak he joined his friend in his task, gathering piles of twigs in his stumpy arms.

Some time later the homely glow of a fire could be seen dancing between the trees and, beside it, two rather pleased-looking individuals. Looker pulled a brown messenger bag from around his neck and threw it down to the ground, joining it soon after. He shuffled for a while until he found comfort and, with a sigh of relief, began to warm his hands in the fire. Once or twice he allowed the flickering tongues of the fire to enwrap his fingers, leaving them blushed and throbbing. His companion croaked his disapproval as, he too, sat himself down. The Pokémon's stomach rumbled and, without a word, Looker began to rummage in his bag. With a metallic thud, several cans met the foliage. Croagunk raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, we're not eating out of tins. I, at least, planned our meals," Looker grinned. Inside he was a little disappointed, he used to love hearing stories of those old Sinnoh rancher types with their steeds and hands and cans a' beans. His partner had obviously not heard the same stories. In a flash several packets and small tupperwares had been retrieved, inside a bounty of sandwiches and ration bars. But most importantly of all, "Lave Cookies!".

Tucking in, the two joked and croaked until it was too dark to do either. With the fire dying, Looker leant himself against a tree and pulled his coat tight around him. He could see his breath, silver and misty, swirling in front of his face. Through the dark he heard his partner's rattling good night and smiled, before wishing him a better one.


End file.
